he as nervous about all this as she suddenly was? There was no way to tell. But she was glad he was here with her every step of the way.
Together, Gavin and Violet waited in the corridor outside the unit. Finally, Lacey McCabe came out. Clad in a sterile yellow gown thrown over her clothing, she had a stethoscope around her neck and a smile on her face. “Ava’s doing great. You can go in and see her now.”
The two of them slipped on yellow gowns and Violet took a bolstering breath as they went inside.
Ava was snuggled on a white flannel blanket that covered the bottom of the enclosed Plexiglas incubator. She had a knit cap on her head, a white knit sweater on her torso that covered her spindly arms and a diaper. Monitors were attached to her chest and foot. She had a nasal cannula to help her get the oxygen she needed.
Her eyes were closed, her dark lashes thick and velvety against her cheeks. She appeared to be sleeping comfortably. Looked sweet and vulnerable. And so very precious, this tiny baby girl.
A lump rose in Violet’s throat as she thought about everything the premature infant had already been through. It was one thing to accept responsibility of a child in theory, another to actually do it, live and in person.
Violet let out a tremulous sigh.
Gavin seemed similarly affected. His eyes still on little Ava, he reached over and took Violet’s hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze.
Meg Carrigan, the nursing supervisor, appeared at Violet’s elbow. “You can come back and visit her as much as you want, but right now we’d like Ava to rest awhile.”
Violet nodded. The doctor in her understood the reasoning. But the “mom” in her wanted to stay. Forever.
Reluctantly, she stepped back.
Gavin took her elbow and led her out of the nursery and into the hall.
A crowd had gathered. Other parents. Staff. Visitors. Everyone wanted a glimpse of the little orphan. Mitzy was there, too, smiling. “Can you believe it?” She was practically gushing as she held up another sheet on her clipboard. “We’ve already had two dozen families calling, interested in giving her a permanent home. And they haven’t even seen her!”
“Great,” Violet managed to say, her treacherous heart clenching and unclenching like a fist in the middle of her chest.
Gavin nodded. Tightening his grip on her elbow, he escorted her down the hall and past the elevators, to a deserted corner. “You okay?”
“Wh-what do you mean?”
He edged closer. Head dipping toward hers, he asked quietly, “Are you going to be able to do this?”
Not sure whether to be insulted he doubted her or impressed he could so easily see her inner turmoil, Violet stammered, “O-of course!”
Gavin gave her a probing look that sent heat spiraling through her. “Really? Because, from my view, you already look a little too attached.”
* * *
HIS OBSERVATION HIT Violet hard, and while Gavin was sorry about that, he also knew it had to be said.
“You had tears in your eyes just now.”
She waved a hand. “You were choked up, too.”
Only because Violet had been choked up.
Gavin cleared his throat. He saw the vulnerability in her expression and wished there was some way to make this easier for all of them without admitting they might have made a mistake in agreeing to it at all.
Especially if she was this emotionally invested already.
Their eyes met and locked, generating another wave of heat between them. She stepped back slightly, but not before he caught the faint drift of the freesia perfume she favored.
“Look, I’m not going to deny I feel a little sorry for the kid...”
Her golden-brown eyes sparked with indignation. “A little?”
“Okay, a lot.” He rested his hands on her shoulders. “Being orphaned is a rough road.”
She inhaled shakily, reminding him, “As you very well know from personal experience.” Her dark brows knit together. “Which, maybe, is precisely the reason you should be involved?”
Chagrined, he dropped his hold on her. “Temporarily. In a very cursory—guardian in legal aspect only—way.” Otherwise, he wasn’t sure he could meet this child’s needs any better than he had his siblings’ in the aftermath of his parents’ tragic death.
She gave him an affronted look. “Well, that’s not my idea of being a guardian.”
Out of the corner of his eye he saw several people heading toward them. Figuring this conversation did not need an audience, Gavin cupped Violet’s elbow once again, opened the exit door that led to the stairwell and guided her through.
Abruptly, they were surrounded by concrete—and silence. She swung toward him, shivering slightly, her full lips slanting downward. “You can’t get emotionally attached to this baby, Violet.”
“Actually, I can’t not have feelings for her.”
Watching a shadow cross her face, he wanted to protect her all the more. “You know what I mean.”
Violet folded her arms in front of her, the action pushing up the soft swell of her breasts. She released another long, quavering breath. “You think I should handle the situation the way you do your ER patients?” Clearly aware this situation was becoming far too intimate too fast, she paced away from him. Leaning against the wall, she propped her hands on the railing behind her. “Treat ’em and street ’em?”
Not about to apologize for doing his job, and doing it well, he replied in a low, matter-of-fact voice, “Patients come in. They have a medical problem that needs to be dealt with. I diagnose it, administer the proper care and then wish them well as they head either out the door or to another floor of the hospital.”
“In any case,” she accused, “you don’t have to see them again or get emotionally involved.”
“Actually,” Gavin corrected, matching her high-brow tone, “some of them I do see on a rather regular basis. Anyone with a chronic health problem. Cystic fibrosis, cancer and congestive heart failure patients tend to come into the ER at least once or twice a year, if not more, depending on the situation.”
She moved to sit on the floor and propped her folded arms on her upraised knees. “Okay. I’ll grant you that.”
He sat next to her; so close their legs almost touched. “I never give anyone less than my best. It still doesn’t mean, however, that I’m unnecessarily involved with my patients.” The way, he observed silently, she often seemed to be.
“Well, that’s true.” Violet rubbed at an imaginary spot on her jeans. “You do have a rep for having a barbed-wired heart.”
Her teasing tone did little to allay the sting of the words. He elbowed her playfully. “Actually, Penelope said
